last chance
by nonsequiturvy
Summary: Amy's bus runs just late enough.


— _to Florida with service through Asheville, North Carolina, departing from gate five, has now been delayed._

He's long since finished the coffee she got him. ("My treat," she'd winked, before charming a free cup out of the awkward-looking bus station guy. She could feel Frank rolling her eyes at her from across the terminal – not that it stopped him from drinking it, of course.)

They sit together, in a silence weighed down with all the things that should be said, but can't, or won't. Not yet. Maybe not ever, knowing them both. But it's okay, Amy thinks. It'll have to be.

God, she sucks at saying goodbyes.

Frank's half-slouched forward in his seat, elbow to knee like it's the only way he can hold himself still, but his eyes are everywhere and all at once – watching. Waiting. Ready.

Force of habit, she knows, one of many that she's probably picked up from him by now, and she side-eyes the doors of people as they come, and go, come, and go.

Never know who might walk through next.

"So, you gonna talk to her?"

Frank goes quiet for what feels like an age before finally grunting out a low, "Who?" But she sees the way his jaw tightens just slightly, how his whole body shifts in his seat as he says it.

Amy answers anyway, just to humor him. "You know. That woman at the hospital the other day. Think she said her name was…Kara? Katherine?"

She thinks he might be glaring at her beneath that hoodie of his, but he doesn't bite, preferring to sit in his broody little silence instead.

"The one you were holding hands with," she clarifies helpfully, and his gaze snaps over to hers and then away again, quick as a whip, hard and unreadable.

"Look," and his voice goes even lower than she had thought possible, sounding soft and worn over at the edges, "I said what needed to be said."

"Still." She kicks a leg up and down, makes a solid effort not to look him too directly in the eye when she adds in an offhand way, "Seemed like you had something else you wanted to tell her."

"Seemed like we got interrupted."

"Yeah, about that—" she pulls a rueful face at him. "You weren't supposed to, like, get captured again literally as soon as we sprung you out of the hospital. Thought you guys would have more time, y'know, after."

It's been building slowly, this agitated energy, and finally he can't sit still, knees bouncing, hands coming apart and then clasping tightly back together. His gaze is swinging all over the place without ever landing on anything real. "Here's what you gotta understand, kid. Me an' Karen…"

Just saying her name seems to close up his throat for a moment, and he has to swallow before going on. "Time's never exactly been on our side."

Her leg stops kicking. "You sure about that?" She glances carefully down at her lap, picking at a stray thread in her jeans. "'Cause really, looks to me like the only person who's never on your side is you."

Frank squints at her, his face all bruises and plain disbelief. "You two been talkin' behind my back or what?"

Amy shrugs. "Only stating what's obvious." She pauses. "Would've been cool, though, you gotta admit."

"How's that?"

"Just to sit with her, see what it's like. The way you can tell a person really cares about somebody else. Even if they're not actually saying it."

Frank's gripping his hands so hard now that he just might break one of them again, and she thinks she maybe should let him off easy, this once.

On second thought. Nah.

"Or, you know." She pauses. "Even when they're saying the opposite."

He runs a hand across his jaw, shaking his head with a gruff, humorless chuckle. "Yeah? What would you know about that?"

"Okay, let's put it this way." She shifts her weight onto her other leg, angling herself in his direction. "You know how they say, 'I see the way you look at her'?"

"Nope," says Frank, like the total asshole he is.

"Unbelievable," Amy groans, throwing her hands up in the air. "For the record, you are pretty much the worst."

Frank nods, looking more pleased with himself than he should. "Appreciate it."

"I don't know why I bother," she tells him, her voice going pointed at the end. "It's almost like I care or something."

That sobers him up, the stiff way he's holding himself loosening out of his shoulders a bit.

"What would you say to her, if you saw her right now?"

He shakes his head, looking lost in himself, breathing hard through his nose before answering. "I. I don't know."

"Okay. Then just…" Their eyes meet, and he doesn't look away this time when she says, "At least promise me you'll think about it."

He's saved from responding by the overhead speakers, eyes flicking up to the ceiling, rocking forward in his seat, that same restless war never-ending inside of him that she's come to recognize so well.

 _Boarding for gate five to begin momentarily._

She glances toward the terminal entrance again.

And then Frank is turning back to her all purposeful-like, abruptly changing the subject. "You got everything?"

"Yeah," says Amy, and it comes out of nowhere, something burning in her eyes that she has to blink back for a second. His gaze is sharp, even brighter than usual, and she's not sure who looks away first but the silence ticks on, from one heartbeat to the next until—

She finds her voice again, and it feels steady enough. "Well, almost everything, anyway," she teases, nudging an elbow into his, and it cracks a small grin out of him.

 _All airport shuttles are available on the main level of the terminal._

"Last chance," she tells him, already knowing his answer. "We're good together."

He scoffs, and she smiles.

 _You know, kid…_

Walking away from him is one of the hardest things she's ever done. She tries not to picture him there staring after her, his face split open, some scars still raw.

She would know – she's got a few of her own from him now. Not that she'd have it any other way.

She thinks she'll end up being okay – doesn't really have another option, with his friend looking after her, and Frank just a phone call away – but she doesn't want to leave him like this, to wage all his wars on his own. He's the guy you can count on, fighting for everyone else, but when it comes to fighting for himself…

His chair is empty by the time Amy looks back, and her heart gives a squeeze as she cranes her neck to watch him go, hands pressed to the window and hoping – despite all the dumb odds that've been stacked against him finding some kind of peace, maybe, just maybe—

There.

A glint of blonde through the terminal window, streaked almost gold in the sunlight, and at the same time Amy sees her standing there waiting for him, so does Frank.

 _Sometimes…you find things…_

He freezes mid-stride, and Amy could swear that he's stopped breathing, the air finally shuddering out of him in one fell swoop as Karen tilts her head at him and smiles.

She opens her mouth to speak. A single word. _Frank_ , Amy thinks.

He looks undone for a moment.

And then he's shaking his head, but his feet are moving him forward, until he's inches away from her face. His eyes can't seem to settle anywhere, darting up and down and back again at a kind of frantic pace, like the Karen standing just within reach couldn't possibly be real to him.

Or maybe she's far too real for him to know how to handle, his hands clenching uselessly down by his sides, like it's the first time he's ever been at a loss for what to do with them.

"Damn," says Amy under her breath, sinking into her seat with a soft thud, her backpack sliding onto the floor.

Karen's been waiting for him to come to his senses, but then it seems she's done being patient, gently resting a hand on his arm just like Amy had seen in that hospital room before barging in on them.

Well, she'd promised them a later, hadn't she?

Whatever's been holding the last few pieces of Frank Castle together breaks beneath Karen's touch, and he leans his forehead into hers, rocking her backwards with the motion. They stagger a step before finding their footing, simply breathing each other in for a moment.

"Oh, get a room," sighs Amy, pressing a fist over her smile as if that could keep her from feeling any less smug right now.

She hears the bus engine churn to life.

Frank's hands have finally found their way over to Karen, bunching up the fabric at her waist like an anchor as they sway back and forth, foreheads still resting together. She has her palms on his chest, his back, his shoulders, like she needs to make sure he's really there too, and every touch of hers seems to have just as much power over him as the first time she had reached for him.

He says something then, with a slight jerk of his head, and Karen's smile turns knowing, her gaze following his as he turns back toward the bus with that same painfully open expression Amy had seen on him earlier.

 _Sometimes…you find things…_

Amy gives him a shrug, a coy little wave that has him shaking his head at her, but he doesn't take his eyes off the bus as it backs slowly away from the gate.

Her tears sting a little less when she catches the wink Karen gives her, and then the last thing Amy sees of them is Frank, smiling almost in spite of himself, dropping an arm from Karen's waist to take her by the hand instead.

 _And they change your life._


End file.
